


Salvation

by scandalsavage



Series: Paradise Regained [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brother Blood is a drug lord, Coercion, Consent Issues, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Not on Thomas’s part, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The blood and gore is not the sexual kind, this Brother Blood is based off the Teen Titans: The Judas Contract version
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Before the events of Beautiful and Good, before Jason and Damian’s fateful meeting, Jason Todd and Thomas Wayne save each other’s lives. From bringing down a powerful cult, to an untimely death, and mysterious resurrection, their doomed love is as unlikely as it is passionate.





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY!
> 
> The Thomas/Jason prequel to B&G begins!
> 
> Like it says in the tags, this Brother Blood is based on the one from the animated film adaptation of Teen Titans: Judas Contract. “Blood and Gore” tag is pretty much for his very literal blood bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, even though the this is where they meet and how they for that first connection, the important Jason/Thomas stuff really happens after they bring Blood down so if it feels like I’m kinda of rushing the cult stuff I’m sorry. It’s not my intention. There’s probably going to be three chapters of the cult stuff but this kind of felt hurried to me when I reread it after posting. I’m just excited to get to the next stuff :)

When Thomas realized that he was going to have to do something about the so called Church of Blood, he had made his peace with having to deal with the grimy, dank surroundings the cults in Gotham almost invariably enjoyed. Usually in the labyrinth of forgotten catacombs beneath the sewers. During the research phase, before he went under cover, he had fully expected to have to start there, with the lower ranks, before making his way into Brother Blood’s inner circle.

Thomas has also always been aware that his wealth and his name afford him many privileges. Cults are always all too happy to accept new members when they have a vast fortune the cult can manipulate. They’re also much less likely to consider him a possible operative. People think the rich are stupid and out of touch with reality. That may be true of some. But not the Batman.

Still, he wasn’t expecting to get to skip the grunt work entirely.

Brother Blood’s estate, where the ‘Church’s’ elite live, is bigger and grander than his own. It’s also newer and gaudier. Much… brighter, than he had expected with it’s white marble, brass fixtures, and crystal chandeliers.

The first floor of the main house, he’d been informed on his tour, is for business. It features the offices and common areas for work, as well as ballrooms and lounges for entertaining. The second houses the apartments given to the cult’s inner circle, including his, and the kitchens that serve them. The third is Brother Blood’s private rooms. And where his personal ‘attendants’ reside.

He puts air quotes around the word ‘attendants’, even in his mind, because they’re all young, scantily clad servants. And beautiful, even if many of them look too thin to be healthy

All are likely addicted to Blood’s street drugs. And, he suspects, used for more than just making phone calls and fetching coffee.

He’s been here two weeks and hasn’t seen more than a couple at a time. And while there has been some overlap, there’s been enough variation for Thomas to expect more than a dozen individuals ranging from young men and women to some he thinks may still be teenagers.

But the one currently across from him, pouring Blood a glass of peach sangria before turning to do the same for Thomas, seems to be one of two or three favorites. He can feel Blood’s eyes on him while he’s focused on the boy, and wonders if the piece of opportunistic trash knows that this one is Thomas’s favorite too.

Thomas Wayne has always been hyper aware of young people, especially men, with black hair and blue eyes. Or for the last 30 years or so anyway. He doesn’t need to be a doctor or see a therapist to know why. And he doesn’t need anyone to tell him the reason his mind often translates that to physical attraction.

“Thank you,” he says, allowing himself the indulgence of brushing his fingers against the young man’s when he reaches for the glass.

The kid is tall but slim. With every languid shift, the slight outlines of bones are visible under his skin and the flimsy white toga thing in which Blood dresses his attendants. And when he turns toward Thomas and smiles beautifully, teeth white and straight, the glaze over his eyes tells Thomas that his suspicions about these pretty young people being addicted to Blood’s drugs is true.

Thomas pries his eyes away from the shape of the kid’s shoulders and tapered waist as he returns to Blood’s side, and raises his glass at the cult leader he’s hosting on the balcony of his apartment.

“To the Church,” Thomas toasts, plastering his own smile on his face, his most charming grin, usually reserved for wealthy gamblers, “And your vision of a better world, Brother Blood.”

May you see them both go up in flames before I end you, he thinks to himself, as Blood returns the motion and takes a sip before returning his glass to the table.

Thomas watches Blood’s fingers begin to idly twist at the fabric draped off the attendant’s slight frame.

“That vision is much closer to a reality with your generous contributions to our cause. And please, call me Sebastian. You haven’t been here long but you’ve already done more to further our cause than perhaps anyone other than myself.”

Thomas manages to lower his eyes and glance away, feigning embarrassment at the praise, despite wanting to crinkle his nose in disgust at the way words ooze out of the man’s mouth. Many decades of owning casinos and working as Batman has given him an exceptional poker face; and the ability to maintain it when he looks back up to find Blood smirking.

“You’re too modest Dr. Wayne—“

“Thomas. Please. It’s only fair.”

“Of course. Thomas.”

An awkward pause fills the space between their gazes. So Thomas drops his again and takes a couple bites of his swordfish.

When he looks back up he’s not surprised to find Blood still staring at him, but it is starting to bother him.

The cult leader pats the back of the boy’s thigh, and Thomas can’t help but follow the motion. He’s aware that the other man’s eyes don’t move from his face.

“You like him.”

It’s not a question.

Doesn’t matter. He hasn’t been subtle and ultimately it doesn’t matter. This young man, like the others, will be in the best rehabilitation facility his money can buy very soon.

“You have many attractive… employees,” Thomas says, smirking, allowing his suspicions out. Let Blood think he’s just as repulsive, that they have that in common.

“Hmm,” the other man hums, “His name is Jason. I plucked him from a nasty life of poverty and fear, living on the dangerous streets of this dismal city. He’s more of a pupil or acolyte, if you will. And he’s quite grateful. Aren’t you, son?”

Blood’s hand rubs up and down the back of Jason’s thigh and the boy’s eyes flutter closed and his lips part before he sighs quietly, “Yes, Brother.”

“He’s as grateful to me as I am to you,” Blood continues. Then, without looking up, he tugs lightly at Jason’s clothing and the kid kneels without having to be asked. Thomas stomps on the hunger that action raises inside him. Because he knows what is in the little round tab Blood is placing on the boy’s tongue, knows it’s highly addictive, knows that it acts like Ecstasy, knows it makes the user more suggestible, more easily manipulated. It’s how he has built his following, how he’s destroyed the competition to become the premier drug lord in three states and looking to expand.

Blood’s hand cups Jason’s face and his thumb caresses over the younger man’s adam’s apple as he swallows the drug obediently. “My child. I want to show Dr. Wayne how much we appreciate his support,” Blood purrs, low and dark. Only Batman stops Thomas from cringing as the thumb moves up to perfect, pink lips. “I’ve seen the way his eyes follow you. Relay my thanks to him, would you?”

That was also not a question.

Jason moves gracefully for how heavy his lids fall over his eyes. The way he stands and walks is fluid and slow. Definitely drugged.

“This is unnecessary,” Thomas protests, gripping the thin waist to stop the kid from sliding into his lap, “It’s my duty to aide the Church however possible, without expectation of reward.”

Blood shrugs. “True. But it’s my prerogative to reward exemplary piety and service. It’s a gift, the best I have to offer, as I was saving it for myself.” He grins wickedly. “What you do with your gift is up to you, of course.”

For once, Thomas isn’t sure what the right play is here. The cult leader rises, as if to leave, but hesitates, eyes fixed on him and Jason.

He lets the kid approach. Lets him get comfortable in his lap the way Blood seems to expect. Lets Jason’s tongue into his mouth.

He will insist that the little groan he emits is to sell the act until he believes it himself. Same goes for the way his hands tighten again on hips he feels like he can break if he squeezes just a little harder.

Speaking of ‘harder’, it’s been a very long time. So other… reactions will be more difficult to convince himself is part of an act.

He moves his hands from the kid’s hips, presses one to the small of his back and the other between his shoulder blades and cracks an eye open. Just enough to see Blood smirk and walk away.

Thomas slides his hand up, fingers grazing the warm flesh of the boy’s neck, to bury into those inky locks. Savors the sweet taste and the easy glide of wet tongues against each other, trying to get a little deeper.

Then he hears the door click shut. Opens his eyes to make sure that the bastard is actually gone. Then tugs gently on Jason’s hair, pulling them apart.

The kid blinks up at him blissfully, little happy smile playing across reddened lips. His lids are still drooping heavily, drawing Thomas’s attention to long, thick, black lashes and the sliver of azure irises barely visible along the edge of huge pupils.

The warmth that had been building is doused instantly. Thank… whatever passes for a deity in this shitty world for the reminder that this kid is in no condition to know what he’s doing.

“Jason, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thomas resolutely ignores the way the submissive language, spoken in a slow, melodic drawl, has the warmth crawling back under his skin before it can even fully leave.

“Blood’s gone, kid. You can get up.”

Jason eyes narrow in confusion. “But… he told me to—“

“You don’t have to do anything.”

A little of the fog clears. The last dose must be wearing off and the new one hasn’t kicked in yet.

“Do… do you not… like me?”

Is that fear Thomas sees?

“It’s not that. Why, what would he do if I didn’t?”

The boy frowns and his brows knit even closer together, considering. “Take me back, probably.”

When Jason starts to drag his palms over his chest, Thomas grabs hold of his wrists to stop the movement. Immediately, he loosens his grip, worried that he could snap the undernourished bones like twigs. But he can’t help but notice the way the kid’s eyes dropped to the floor, the slight gulp he takes.

“You don’t seem to like that option very much. Even though you don’t know me at all.”

The boy fidgets uncomfortably in Thomas’s lap, picking at the buttons of his expensive button down. Not undoing them, just playing with them, as though he’s worried.

“Rather have you,” Jason mutters without looking up, “At least you won’t…”

He trails off and blushes, turning away.

“At least I won’t what?”

“Nothing. Not allowed to say.”

Thomas wants to press. Whatever it is, it’s enough to upset the kid, even drugged up the way he is. And if Blood is harming the others…

“Does he hurt you?”

Jason’s eyes shoot to meet his, much clearer than a moment ago. “He hasn’t touched me.”

“Then what—“

“Just… just ‘cause he hasn’t, doesn’t mean that he won’t. And then—ah.”

The boy’s eyes roll back as he gasps and shoves his hips down against Thomas’s crotch.

Thomas curses colorfully. Partly because he’d like nothing more than to take the offer, but he won’t do that to anyone in Jason’s condition, and partly because that’s the tab Blood gave the younger man kicking in and he won’t be answering anymore questions now.

He takes one moment to compose himself, during which Jason leans forward with the cutest fucking moan he’s ever heard, and starts peppering little, open mouthed kisses to his neck.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says into the kid’s ear as he scoops him into his arms. Then he carries him into the room. “Just a second ok?”

He tries to dump his ‘gift’ onto the bed, but Jason has his arms and legs tangled tightly around him. There’s more strength in those skinny limbs than he would have expected.

Having a gorgeous, drugged up, horny, black-haired, blue-eyed, young person wrapped around him makes it difficult to find and open the secret pocket in his bag. He ends up pressing their lips together again just to get Jason to stop writhing against him. The kid takes it as an invitation and starts trying to push his tongue down Thomas’s throat.

It’s not unpleasant and it ends up distracting Thomas almost as much as he means for it to distract the kid. But finally, he finds what he’s looking for and makes his way back to the bed.

“Alright, kid, let go for a moment.”

Reluctantly, the arms and legs recede. A heartbeat later Jason is kneeling, demure and servile on the bed, looking up at him expectantly.

The sight makes his mouth water.

He swallows that down and holds out a pill. It’s encouraging to him when Jason turns his nose up at it.

“‘M good already,” he mumbles, slurring slightly.

“This is a sedative.”

Even drugged, the kid’s breathing gets a bit faster, as though he’s scared.

“You… you want me to… to be asleep?”

Thomas smiles at him as kindly as he can manage. It’s not an expression that comes naturally to him anymore. “It’s not like that. This will make it easier for you to ignore the effects of the drug Blood gave you and help with an initial detox.” He gently places his hands on either side of Jason’s face and tilts him up so they can look each other in the eye. “I’m not going to touch you. Not while you’re asleep. Not while you’re on Blood’s drug.”

“But… if you don’t—“

“‘He will’. I got that the first time,” Thomas sighs, “Let’s make a deal. You stop taking the tabs Blood gives you, hide them under your tongue and flush them when you can, and I’ll tell him how flattered and happy you make me. Sound good?”

To his surprise, the kid nods eagerly, without hesitation. “Already do that sometimes.”

Before he can offer the sedative to him again, Jason turns his head a bit in Thomas’s hands, sticks out his tongue, and takes the little pill from where he still holds it between his thumb and forefinger, and swallows it without another word.

“Uh… good,” Thomas stutters, surprised again. The kid’s willingness to trust him and the fact that he already seems to be uncomfortable with some of what’s going on in the cult…

Jason may end up being just what he needs.

To take down Brother Blood, of course.


End file.
